Sea Salt
by rubyshards
Summary: SeiferxSquall. Postgame, fluff. Seifer is hell bent on getting Squall to take a vacation. For the themes 'sunshine' and 'holiday.'


"Seifer, I hate fishing."

The sun is warm and bright over their heads, and Squall has to squint against the light and hold a hand up over his eyes as a shield to get a good look at the man walking before him. He's dressed in a dark blue tank top and old jeans, a bag of fishing poles, lures, and bait is tossed over his shoulder. His tanned skin glows in the sunlight, and Squall focuses on that as he talks instead of the glaring blonde of the back of his head.

A break for Squall Leonhart is a rare occurrence. Running a Garden and maintaining a relationship with his newly discovered father (he wasn't quite sure which was more pressing anymore) keeps him busy enough that getting a chance to find his way into the Training Center, let alone to take a two week vacation to Fisherman's Horizon (of all places), is nearly impossible.

"So do I, but there's nothing better to do here, and you could use the sunlight. You're startin' to get ghostly pale in that damn room." Seifer doesn't turn around as he speaks, confident that Squall will follow after him even if he's going to complain the entire trip to the docks, and Squall knows that Seifer's right, that he'd keep after Seifer until he can at least convince the blonde to pursue a different activity for the day. He frowns, and crosses his arms as he walks, glaring icily at Seifer's back as if his very stare could convince the blonde man otherwise.

"If you don't like it, then why are we here?"

"Because you need a vacation, remember?" Like it's as simple as that. "If you're worried about the Garden, forget about it. Quisty's a big girl now – I'm sure she can handle a few stray kids here and there." Squall sighs and rolls his eyes, a habit he's formed that takes over even when Seifer can't see that he's doing it, and he catches up to Seifer's long-legged trot with quick little steps, matching his pace. He glances out of the corner of his eye, searching the suntanned face for some sign of surrender, although he knows he's not going to find one. "Besides, there's nothin' better than fresh fish to eat, right?"

Seifer is still his stubborn self, after all. Nothing is going to change that.

"I hate seafood. You _know _that."

Seifer laughs, rich and deep and full of humor, and Squall feels a little less frustrated at the blonde when he hears it. He's always had a soft spot for Seifer's laugh, how true and simple it is, but he'll never say anything about it out loud, not even when he's alone. It's a secret pleasure he'd much rather keep to himself.

"Well, guess you're gonna have to learn to love it, babe, because that's all they serve here."

Squall hates this little vacation already.

The entire trip was Seifer's idea, of course. He had been perfectly fine with just staying somewhere close by, somewhere _simple_, so he could be contacted by Garden if need arose, but Seifer had insisted otherwise.

Squall hates the fact that Seifer knows him that well.

"Whatever."

The docks are relatively empty, and Squall is thankful for that. Having to deal with pedestrians trying to figure out why the Headmaster of Balamb Garden is suddenly taking a fishing vacation would have been a headache that he didn't want to deal with.

Seifer drops their fishing rods off to one side, tugging off his boots with his free hand.

"Look, Squall. If you keep coming at it with that kind of attitude, then you're never going to like it." Seifer rolls his eyes as he speaks, but he's not even looking up at Squall, instead focusing on digging out one of the rods from the tangle of fishing line and other such things and preparing it for use. "Lighten up a little bit. You might actually have fun then." Seifer frowns when he snags his finger on one of the hooks, and Squall laughs, soft and gentle in that restrained manner of his, and Seifer can't help but laugh a little, too, despite the fact that it's really not that funny at all. "Yeah, it's real funny when I get hurt, isn't it, Leonhart? Cold bastard."

"And if I told you it was the best part of this vacation so far?"

Seifer grins at him, a predator ready to leap at his prey, and Squall sincerely wishes that he wouldn't have opened his mouth, and he curses the fact that Seifer was the one who made him open up that much in the first place. He frowns, that warning "if you touch me I'll stab you in the eye with that hook" glare he's managed to perfect down to the very last curve of his face set in place, and he takes a small step back, arms dropping to be held out in front of him.

"Then I'd have to get revenge."

Squall doesn't even have a chance to fight back before Seifer leaps to his feet, arms catching around his smaller body and swooping him around in a circle, and he glares hard into emerald eyes when he glances over his shoulder and sees exactly what Seifer has in mind. His flip-flops slide off, splash into the water below, and he watches them drift under the dock, disappearing from view, and he sincerely wishes he could just drop Seifer into the water and watch as he floats away, too.

"Dammit, Almasy, put me _down right now._"

The wicked grin that flashes on the blonde's face instantly makes Squall regret his words, but before he can do anything he finds himself flailing beneath the salty water, choking on a mouthful that he had swallowed when he had attempted to swear on his descent. He swims to the top, sopping wet from head to toe, and he frowns when he finds Seifer doubled-over, a strong arm wrapped around his stomach in laughter.

"Bastard."

Seifer's victory is short lived, however, and Squall makes sure of that, wrapping his hands around one of the blonde's ankles before knocking him off of his feet, sending him toppling forward to land head-first in the crystal blue water at Squall's side. He laughs, loud this time, full and bright and something that he wasn't even sure he could do, and he's surprised with himself. He pauses, and Seifer is giving him that little look that he does, the soft look that sends a shiver down Squall's spine even in the warm sunshine and salty-water.

Seifer swims to his side, wraps him up in his arms as he pushes off, toward the dock, sunny-smile plastered on his face. He pulls him close, kisses him on the mouth, possessively, pleasantly, and neither of them really care that they're soaking wet or that the fish are scared off now, because the vacation just suddenly looked a little bit brighter, and both of them are laughing out loud.

A rare occurrence indeed.


End file.
